


Song of Songs

by LydianNode



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Bible as erotic poetry so if that offends you please stop here and have a nice day, Brian and Roger are so adorable together it hurts, Language, M/M, Maylor - Freeform, Oral Sex, Sex, Slash, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 15:06:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17490197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydianNode/pseuds/LydianNode
Summary: It's the penultimate night of the 1980 US tour, and Brian wants to read to Roger.ETA: The lovely and talented fledgelingsart did an illustration, which I have happily put in its rightful place!





	Song of Songs

**Author's Note:**

> I'll repeat this here in case someone didn't read the tag - this story includes the Song of Songs as erotic poetry, so if that offends you, please stop here and have a nice day. :)

29 September 1980  
New York City

 

Roger stepped out of the bathroom, toweling his hair into spiky blond tips, the hotel bathrobe tied lightly around his waist. Steam from the very hot shower followed in his wake, scented strongly with the citrusy body wash Freddie had given him for his birthday. His feet were wet and they made little squelching noises on the carpet.

The sound caused Brian to look up from the book he was reading. "Feel better?" he asked. His own hair was still damp from his shower, the curls a glossy black cascade over his bare shoulders. He always slept in the nude when he was on tour. He frequently declared that it saved room in his suitcase, which was so ridiculous that even John laughed at him.

"Oh, yes." Roger rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, wincing as something popped. "I should take up something less strenuous. Something easier. Bass, maybe?"

"I'd pay serious money to watch you tell Deacy that his instrument is 'easier.'"

"Hah. Not likely. So, what are you reading?" Brian held up the book, which to Roger's myopic eyes was simply a blur. "Not helpful," Roger grumbled. "It's...brown."

"Come to bed, and I'll read it to you," Brian said, his voice warm and engaging. He held the blankets up for Roger to join him. They had two beds, of course, as did Freddie and John in the room they shared, but the second was mostly to keep up appearances and store their gear.

Roger groaned as he snuggled under the covers, bathrobe and all. "What scientific treatise do you have in store for me tonight? Or is it a biography of a geek, written by geeks for the edification of more geeks?"

"Neither, actually." Brian lightly rapped Roger on the nose with the book.

Roger snorted and moved Brian's hands so he could read the gold lettering on the cover. His brain nearly short-circuited. "You're reading the Bible?"

Shrugging, Brian said, "I've already finished the books I brought with me, and this was in the nightstand, so..." His finger had been holding his place and he opened the pages again.

"Oh, tell me you are NOT going to read the Bible to me," groused Roger, preparing to put a pillow over his ears if necessary.

"Just the poetic parts."

"Brian..."

"Shush. The Song of Songs is some of the most gorgeous love poetry ever written." Brian cleared his throat. "'Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for your love is better than wine.'"

Roger thought it was a lovely turn of phrase but under no circumstances would he say that aloud.

"'Because of the fragrance of your goodly oils,'" continued Brian, sniffing contentedly at the still-damp flesh of Roger's neck, "'your name is Oil-Poured-Forth. Therefore, the maidens loved you.' And a man, of course," Brian added, a slight flush rising on his cheeks. He wasn't one for verbal endearments, after all; that was Freddie's stock-in-trade. "Behold, you are comely, my beloved; behold, you are comely; your eyes are like doves."

But when he did say something sweet...

"'His left hand was under my head, and his right hand would embrace me.'"

Oh.

Roger scooted closer, running his fingers through the wet ringlets at Brian's nape and draping his other arm across his waist. Brian kissed his lips, then gently kissed each eyelid.

"'My dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the coverture of the steps, show me your appearance. Let me hear your voice, for your voice is pleasant and your appearance is comely.'"

"Brian..."

He shook his head, droplets of water scattering from his hair as he turned over and knelt, his long legs on either side of Roger's hips. "'Who is this coming up from the desert, like columns of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, of all the powder of the peddler?'" Brian's free hand roamed under Roger's robe, stroking his chest. "'Behold, you are fair, my beloved; behold, you are fair: your hair is like a flock of goats that streamed down from Mount Gilead.'" Brian moved his hand into Roger's hair, fingering the wet strands, then he leaned over and kissed him. He licked his way into Roger's mouth, running his tongue over his teeth, then pulled back and began to read again.

"'Your teeth are like a flock of uniformly shaped ewes that came up from the washing, all of whom are perfect, and there is no bereavement among them. Your lips are like a scarlet thread...'"

It was more than Roger could endure. The only way to stop the flow of words was to surge forward and capture Brian's mouth with his own. It was almost painful to pull away to catch his breath, and at the juncture where Brian's body met his, they were both becoming tremendously aroused.

Brian's voice deepened. "'You are all fair, my beloved, and there is no blemish in you.'" His eyes were almost all pupil, only a thin rim of gilded hazel showing. He bit his lip as he folded back the page and placed the book on the bed. His face lit up as he pushed Roger's bathrobe off of his shoulders.

"C'mon Brian, please," Roger breathed.

"Please, what?" was the reply in between little kisses down Roger's neck, across the jut of his collarbones, to the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Every gentle touch of his lips was like an electric shock, and when he began to flick his tongue over one of Roger's nipples it was all he could do to keep from convulsing.

"THAT!" shouted Roger. He knew John and Freddie were in the next room, probably awake, more than probably able to hear him, but he couldn't give a shit at gunpoint. He clasped Brian's head, guiding him from one side of his chest to the other until he was nearly shattering with need.

Smiling, Brian raised his head and licked his lips. He met Roger's eyes as he brought up one hand to cup his cheek. Roger turned his head to kiss the palm, then kissed the inside of Brian's wrist where the skin was tender beneath his mouth. He heard Brian's harsh intake of breath, felt the weight of his cock as it rubbed against his own.

Brian raised himself up, muscles quivering beneath the skin of his slender arms, and moved downward, downward, downward, until he was hovering above Roger's pelvis. He put a hand between Roger's legs, guiding them open enough so he could kneel between them. Just as Roger thought he was about to have a heart attack, Brian bent down and caught his erection in his mouth, licking the head before sucking him deeper.

Roger let out a sharp cry that made Brian chuckle. His hair fell like a curtain around his face so Roger twisted his hands in it, pulling the long curls back so he could watch himself disappear into the sinful mouth that had just said such divine things to him. All the muscles in his back went rigid, forcing him to arch upward. White heat surged through his body and his mind turned to static. He knew he was panting, gasping for air in those last seconds before climax, knew he should shout out a warning, but the only word he could remember was Brian's name. It was on his lips and in his heart and all around him as he shuddered through his orgasm. "Brian...Brian..."

Warm fingers replaced the warm mouth as Brian sat up and swallowed. "Ssh, ssh, I've got you, you're all right," he soothed, using a corner of Roger's bathrobe to dab at the corner of his mouth with his free hand. Roger groaned through a few feeble pulses of aftershock, then fell back against the bed, eyes squeezed shut, body shivering.

"'m sorry," muttered Roger as Brian lay down at his side, stroking his hair and humming into his ear to calm him down.

"Don't be. I enjoyed that so much, you have no idea." Long fingers pushed his fringe off of his sweaty forehead and traced the curves of his face. "Seriously, Rog, it was brilliant."

Roger grasped Brian's hand and put it to his lips. "Gimme a minute and I'll repay the favour."

"You don't need to--"

"Brian, shut up, please." Now that his pulse was returning to a non-life-threatening pace, Roger patted the bed until he found the book and thumbed through it. "Just a second." He finally found the page Brian had dog-eared, and his eyes widened. "'My beloved stretched forth his hand from the HOLE...and my insides stirred because of him.' I'd have paid attention in church if they'd ever read THIS..."

Brian shook his head and chuckled. "Figures that's what would get your attention first."

"Wait, this is better. 'My beloved is white and ruddy, surrounded by myriads.'" Roger smiled at the image of Brian onstage in his white satin tunic, his cheeks turning pink under the hot stage lights as he played for his overjoyed fans. "'His head is as the finest gold; his locks are curled, as black as the raven.'"

They both laughed. Roger turned Brian over onto his back so that his hair spilled over the pillow. "I love your crazy hair," he whispered, then he began to read again. "'His eyes are like doves beside rivulets of water, bathing in milk, fitly set. His jaws are like a bed of spice, growths of aromatic plants...'" Here Roger ran a finger along the past-midnight shadow and up to Brian's mouth. "'His lips are roses, dripping with flowing myrrh.'"

Sighing, Brian pursed his lips to kiss Roger's finger. His eyes were closed, lashes shadowing his cheeks as his breathing quickened. Roger wanted nothing more than to tell him all how beautiful he was, to make him feel as if he were the most extraordinary thing in the universe. He picked up Brian's left hand and kissed each callused fingertip. "'His hands are wheels of gold, set with chrysolite; his abdomen is a block of ivory, overlaid with sapphires.'"

Truly, Brian did have a gorgeous body, Roger thought as he admired the muscled shoulders tapering down to the slim waist, the temptingly flawless skin under fine, dark hair. Roger's mouth watered at the sight of Brian's cock with its the ideally curved shaft, the tip glistening with drops of pre-come that demonstrated the intensity of his desire.

"Tell me what you want," Roger breathed, his voice unusually raspy.

Brian's eyes opened, shining in the light from the bedside lamp. His lips were parted and he was breathing quickly, shallowly. He guided Roger's hand down as he gasped out, "Just touch me. Please."

Roger ran his hand along Brian's hip, down to his thighs. "'His legs are pillars of marble, founded upon sockets of fine gold, his appearance is like the Lebanon, chosen as the cedars.'" He felt Brian tremble at the brush of his hand against his groin, sweet moans tumbling from his lips. Roger's heart thrummed as he began pumping Brian, slowly, grateful for the sweat on his palm that made the caresses easier. Just as Roger had been unable to last long, Brian began to thrash beneath him after only a few moments. He turned his head away and covered his face with a shaking hand and took a long breath before opening his eyes again and gazing lovingly at Roger. That was his tell, that moment where he needed privacy before he could let Roger see him come undone.

As far as Roger was concerned, that was always the most beautiful, most intimate thing in the world, and it never failed to bring tears to his eyes. Brian spilled over his hand, calling out his name in tones only Roger ever got to hear.

"There, that's better," Roger crooned as he worked Brian through the last spasms. Grateful for the terrycloth robe, he unfastened the sash and took it off, using it to mop up the streams of Brian's semen before tossing it on the floor. He turned his attention back to Brian, who lay still and sated, long arms outstretched. Roger picked up the Gideon Bible once again, snuggled down into Brian's arms, and kissed him. "Mmmm. 'His palate is sweet, and he is altogether desirable.'"

Brian was nothing if not desirable, and never more so than when they were holed up in a hotel room, just the two of them, after a show. There was only one more day of this tour, then it was home to women and babies and recording and everything else that became blurry memories when they were on the road. Roger frowned. "When do we go back out?" he asked as Brian kissed him on top of the head.

"November" was the answer that Roger felt more than heard, mumbled into his hair. "Europe, I think." Brian yawned, resting his head on Roger's chest. "You gonna turn out the light?"

"In a bit. I want to watch you sleep."

Brian blinked at him, lips quirking, then another yawn overtook him and he settled down to sleep, all the tension in his body melting away until a new day dawned.

After several minutes of marveling at the exquisite man in his arms, Roger set the Bible aside, reached up for the lamp, and clicked it off. Diffused moonlight danced over them as Roger sank into the pillows and grazed Brian's hair with his lips.

"'This is my beloved, and this is my friend,'" he recited, committing the words to memory, setting Brian as a seal on his heart.


End file.
